HumanE had all the cannon fodder in the universe. Austin’s hunch was Delilah would be better at this type of warfare.

  Still, you go to battle with the army you’ve got. And Ruby Page has got your best interests at heart. Ruby was more top-shelf metal than human meat, but even she’d barely made it out of the encounter at Afterlife.

  Goliath keyed their link comms. “I detect human squatters on the lower levels.”

  Ruby wiped rain from her face. “Shame about Olivia.” It sounded like she asked rather than stated.

  Interesting. Losing Olivia Simons was a blow to HumanE, the head of PR also a magnificent hacker. “It’s a shame, but we have Goliath now.”

  She quirked her lip, almost a smile. “He’s going to be killer at the company Christmas party.”

  “I detect humor,” said Goliath. “While we’re telling jokes, I’ve almost crushed Carter, bringing her to heel. Without the data scaffold she’s weak and feeble. Soon I will breach her firewall and all her secrets will be mine.”

  “Be ours, right?” Austin cocked his head, waiting.

  “Yes. Her secrets will be ours. I made a joke.”

  “That wasn’t humor.” Austin glanced at Ruby. “Was it?”

  “No.” She looked at Reed’s Tower Prime, the cant of her head saying, If you didn’t find it funny, it ain’t a joke. “Let’s get this underway.”

  “It’s funny because you won’t need her anymore.” Goliath’s voice had weight and substance in a way Carter’s never had. Like he found the world too damn small.

  Austin liked that in a staff member. “We can work on your comedy routine later. Ruby, do your thing.”

  “Doing it.” She stalked toward the line of Human Energetics enforcers. Since they’d plundered the Metatech organ donor facility, they had a couple hundred agents to use. Their upgrades were incomplete. Nothing like Ruby, or the mysterious Mike Fucking Takahashi she raged about. But good enough to get into Reed and get the gate.

  Once Austin had the gate, he’d open a doorway into the heart of Afterlife, and pull Carter out like a cork from a bottle. Whether Goliath had only-child syndrome or not, Austin wanted all the godlike intelligences of the world serving him. His market capitalization would be truly epic.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Sadie’s boots clacked across the smooth concrete floor of Metatech’s hangar. The air smelled of jet fuel, ozone, and burnt metal. People teamed. There were a hundred machines at least, aircraft and ground assault vehicles and God knows what else. Despite it all, the noise wasn’t thunderous. Metatech were efficient. The loudest sounds were machine engines firing for test runs or the rumble of loaders. Sadie walked an island of calm in a vast hangar.

  It was buried in the heart of Metatech’s main tower. A sanctum of war machines and warriors to pilot them. Ground troops. Total conversions. Some licked their wounds, the blunted assault on Human Energetics a reminder that they couldn’t use people against mind control technology. Satellites above warred with each other, leaving nothing but orbital wreckage.

  The scene here was replicated all over Earth. The syndicate war was real, Metatech throwing down against HumanE. Sadie didn’t know how those battles went, but here they weren’t going well. Several aircraft would never fly again, harried techs scurrying about, loaders working at capacity, dragging wreckage away, salvaging what could be made to work for round two in the war for Earth.

  That’s what it is. You’re in the middle of a knife fight for the whole planet. Who’d have thought you’d side with the baby killers and war merchants?

  Metatech were a lesser evil by far. They only killed people.

  Speaking of baby killers, Omar Moreno walked at her side. This close, the scent of his no doubt astonishingly expensive cologne walked with them like a gentle third person. She ignored it. Knowing company men, it would be laced with pheromones or other bullshit designed to encourage compliance or supplication. The man took the news of his subjugation and subsequent rescue surprisingly well. She wondered how to start the what-comes-next conversation. Just dive in. It’s what you normally do. “This feels like a lot of people to take over a world of savages.”

  He nodded. “This,” he waved an arm at the people and machines around them, “isn’t for the world of savages. Also, you’re making a bold assumption.”

  “Carter said there’s no machinery there.” Sadie shrugged. “Bows and arrows, right?”

  “Right.” Omar kept his smile in place with practiced ease. “The weather effect and mind control. Do you remember those?”

  Sadie shivered, feeling a chill despite the climate-controlled hangar. “I remember.”

  “It’s why we’re not using any of these people to go boots-down on another world.” Omar guided her through the hangar, co-opting a cart. They hopped in, the little electric motor whizzing them through the organized chaos. They reached a massive elevator plate set in the floor, the kind of thing you might see on aircraft carriers for hauling planes between decks. The cart looked tiny on the plate.

  Sadie suspected this was one of those dick-ruler things. Show the primitives, in this case her, the might and awe of Metatech. She slouched on her seat. “You’re sending imaginary troops?”

  “Similar.” The plate jerked, rumbling as it sank into the earth.

  As they descended, concrete walls swallowing them, Sadie had a few moments to think. Omar didn’t say much, not a chatty catty like Mike. The kind of dude who seemed to let his dick-ruler do the talking. “We’re still going through the gate?”

  “We’re still going.” Omar turned to her, face earnest. “I owe you a great deal.”

  She nodded. Here it comes. The ‘honesty’ he can share now we’re alone. “That’s right.”

  He smiled. “I can see why Mike’s reports speak of you so highly.”

  “Mike writes reports about me?” She glared at Omar. “I thought you fired him.”

  “He’s on standby. Metatech hasn’t been itself. Carter’s done a great deal, but we’re losing. And we don’t lose.” He straightened his tie as if concerned he might have shown a microgram too much emotion. “Also, the benefits of getting the only two telekinetics in existence back on payroll can’t be ignored.”

  Sadie laughed. “I like you, Omar. You’re not a lying cunt.”

  “Thank you.”

  “A small wrinkle is the telekinetic on the other side of the gate was never on payroll.” Omar made a small sound, half-hmm, half-grunt, like details like that don’t matter. Sadie turned her eyes front. The massive concrete rectangular section they slid through gave way to a cavern beneath Metatech. It was bigger than the hangar above, mostly-empty shelves for titans lining the room. A few held vehicles. “Where are we going?”

  “We’ve got a lab down here.” The cavern slipped from view as they continued deeper. “We put the gate tech here. We’ve wired it to a reactor.”

  “Wired?”

  “The geeks could give you more details.” Omar sighed. “It’s not my field.”

  A man at the top of a syndicate who admits not knowing something? “How’d you get started at Metatech, Omar?”

  “Killing people.” He took in her surprised stare. “This is what we do. You don’t have to like us. We don’t have to like you. You’re too unclean for us.” He held up a hand as she built to an outburst. “I don’t mean that in a negative way. The world needs dirt. Otherwise we wouldn’t get paid to clean it up.” He looked away, eyes distant, the elevator rumble filling the silence between his words. “I didn’t always wear a suit.”

  “People never do. We’re born naked and screaming. Only a few of us choose to choke ourselves with silk chains.” Sadie thought for a few moments about the company man beside her. For all its boards, reporting, and shareholders, this guy was where the buck stopped. Legions of people would kill to be in her shoes now. To get just five minutes of airtime with Omar Moreno was a prize. “Sorry. Why are you doing this? I don’t mean going after telekinetics. I don’t think you’re after Zach and Laia from the goodness of your heart, but I think your reasons don’t matter because the outcome’s the same. I mean this,” she gestured at the massive concrete walls sliding by. “You’ve started a syndicate war against a wealthier company.”

  His expression turned feral, and she glimpsed the streetfighter-turned-CEO. “It’s not the size of the dog in the fight. It’s the size of the fight in the dog.” His teeth glinted. “I could talk about our laser focus on shareholder value. Now’s when I might roll out a line about leaning in on the conversations people want on freedom. But you said before I wasn’t a … how did you put it?”

  “Lying cunt.”

  “Precious. You should attend an earnings’ calls with me some time.”

  “Let’s not.”

  Omar sobered. “You’re right. It would be fun, but unproductive. The reason we’re doing this is because no one takes a swing at Metatech. It’s the kind of thing we can’t let rest. If we let this slide, nothing else matters.”

  “Is this like on your first day of prison you pick a fight with the biggest inmate?” Sadie sighed. “I hoped for more.”

  He shook his head. “No, we’re already the biggest inmate. Nothing else matters.”

  The elevator broke free into a wide-open room. The stolen gate tech was in the middle, a handful of techs in white coats working on it. A massive Apsel reactor stood nearby, cables as thick as Sadie’s arms running between it and the gate system. None of that was a surprise.

  The real surprise was seeing the army Omar was taking to another world. It was good enough to wage war on an enemy that could read and control minds.

  Sadie smiled. “Oh, this is going to be so fucking awesome.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The sun passed its zenith, settling into what Mason called one o’clock. Abinal’s march of time was a little longer than Earth’s. The gentle buzz of insects, a thing you’d never hear in Seattle, faded away. The calls of birds settled into silence. He scanned the tree line, taking in the ever-growing number of Seekers.

  Eloi kicked a stone. Nura put hands on hips. “They’re late.”

  “I don’t think anyone here uses a watch.” Mason checked his weapon, two rifles taped together. The oracles told him the Masters would come behind a legion of Seekers. Mason needed a lethal option for the assholes, and something less forceful for those who might become human again. The pyramid’s stores yielded ancient duct tape, the adhesive gummy but good enough when he wrapped it multiple times around the rifles.

  One he’d loaded with explosive rounds, because nothing says fuck you like blowing a Master’s head into mist. The other had riot rounds, hard rubber at the end of a ten-millimeter casing. It’d hurt, giving a hell of a bruise, but also leaving people alive. Mason would prefer one of Apsel’s automatic tasers, magazines full of long-range charges, but it was nice to want things.

  “Being late isn’t good.” Eloi crouched, pulling stones and twigs together into a small collection. He laid the sticks in a square — the pyramid. Smaller stones he placed outside the pyramid. “This is where the Masters will be.”

  Mason looked at the collection of twigs and rocks. “That’s not much of a tactical map.”

  Eloi stood, dusting his hands off. “It is what it is.”

  “You should get a job in PR.” Mason gave his rifles a jiggle, making sure the tape held well enough to do the job. His bandolier held spare magazines for each, over armor Mason hoped would withstand a few hits. It was old, and while it looked good enough all things wore out with time. He couldn’t count on it taking a bullet, but these throwbacks didn’t use hypervelocity weapons.

  His hand shook. Mason clenched his fingers, trying to still the motion. His overlay read BIONIC FEEDBACK LOOP COMPROMISED, SEEK URGENT AID. Mason cleared the error. Just one more thing he couldn’t do anything about.

  Nura stood at his elbow, watching his hand spasm. “Does PR do good things?”

  “Not really.”

  “Then we won’t do PR.” She looked over the battlefield-to-be, raising a hand to visor her eyes against the sun.

  “It’s good to know your career path at an early age. Can you two get inside?” Mason glanced back at the pyramid’s mouth, dark and cool. Deep inside, Laia lay in another drug-induced coma. The oracles refused sleep. They claimed they couldn’t do anything to Mason apart from tell truth he wasn’t ready for, which was a hell of a thing, but probably not severe enough to knock ‘em out for.

  Eloi looked at Mason’s chest where the reactor burned. It was uncanny how he knew where to look. “Your death will come soon enough, but not today.”

  “I’m not going to last-stand by reactor, if that’s what you mean.” Apsel agents could breach their own reactors. It meant capturing them was difficult, another precaution in the escalating not-war of syndicate fighting. Mason jerked a thumb at the pyramid. “That thing won’t take harsh language, let alone a nuclear breach.” He shouldn’t release containment on his reactor without his handler’s go-ahead anyway, and she was dead.

  You let me die, Mason. I waited so long to be born and burned so briefly. Is loss and betrayal all life is?

  Nura rubbed her scalp. “You’ll see her soon.”

  “Yeah, I wish Laia was here too.” Mason did a last ammo count. Nowhere near enough for all the Seekers, but all he needed was to get the Masters, and he had plenty of rounds for that.

  “Not Laia. It’s a shame you don’t have her collar.”

  “You want to cut her gift off?” Mason gave the girl a raised eyebrow.

  “The collars were designed to protect the mind, not jail it.” Nura shrugged. “A small modification and they became the downfall of us all. Warriors of light, shackled as slaves to the darkness.”

  Mason eyed his opponents. The overlay was keeping score, claiming nine hundred and twelve unique targets. Those were just the visible ones. “I wonder what they’re waiting for.” He paused, rewinding the conversation ten seconds. “Wait. Who will I see soon?”

  “You won’t die today, but you have to try to live. Staying alive doesn’t happen by accident.” Eloi took Nura’s hand, walking back to the pyramid.

  Mason watched them go. They should be creepy but they’re not. It’s like they’re watching over me. The ‘tactical map’ Eloi laid out waited in the sun. Mason looked over it, thought what the hell, and marked positions on his overlay. He turned, checking sight lines. According to his eyeball measure, three locations for Masters were in the cleared area between the trees and the pyramid. Five were in the trees, hidden and protected.

  All that assumes the kid is accurate. You trust your life to twins who arrived, starving and desperate, only yesterday? Mason chewed that over. If it were just him, sure, but Eloi’s map was Laia’s protection too. Mason needed to guard her. She was the savior of the world.

  Admit it. She’s more than that.

  Mason shook his head. He needed to get his mind in the game. He triggered a combat focus routine, the link flooding his brain with the right chemicals to keep him wired. Thoughts of Laia faded away, lost in the backdrop of tactical plans, approaches, and staying upright.

  He linked to the robots. Mason named them Athena and Minerva. The same deity, but different PR rep. The names kept their purpose clear in his mind. Goddesses of warfare. He needed a little divine help today. He had bionics from a civilization so far ahead of Abinal’s it may as well have been Merlin’s magic, but he was wearing out. That, and if you hit steel enough times with a stone, you’ll bend it. Persistence matters. Mason checked the overlay’s count on unique targets, finding it up to nine hundred and twenty-two.

  Even more reason to get Athena and Minerva up front. He sent them forward, treads clutching at the soil as they wandered for the trees. The Seekers shifted, jostling side to side, almost frenzied. They moaned, like a dog chained might if it spied a cat it couldn’t quite get to.

  They charged.

  Mason held his ground. The cams about the pyramid showed no side attacks. Just a swarm of Seekers, coming right for the main door. Made sense; their previous side attempts hadn’t worked, so they were trying to wear him down. The Masters probably picked the idea right out of his mind, using his own fears against him. Let ‘em come. I’ll show them what fear is like.

  Overtime slipped into place, the light turning gray and clear as the color leached away. His jerry-rigged rifle assembly felt almost weightless, ready despite the trembling in his arm. The robots accelerated, clods of dirt flying from the treads in slow, comfortable arcs to the ground as overtime held them. They were equipped with taser arrays, loops of cord they could fire and retract quickly. They needed to be close, but that was the point.

  The robots engaged the Seekers, firing. The taser cables spat out, ten from each robot, energy crackling down the lengths of wire. Mason could almost see the electricity walk the wires but not even overtime was that good.

  Seekers ran for the robots. Four climbed atop Minerva. Athena turned, firing taser lines into Minerva’s attackers. Energy crackled, Minerva unconcerned, because she was built for this music. Knew all the steps by heart. It would take more energy to drop her than the puny riding humans could take.

  Seekers streamed past the robots through sheer force of number. They sprinted for the pyramid. Which meant they charged Mason. He shouldered his rifle assembly, selecting the anti-riot weapon. His overlay dropped a firing solution over his vision, marking forty-five targets. Mason fired on full auto, the lattice yanking the rifle in a methodical, controlled pattern, a bullet hitting each Seeker.

  At least, that’s what was supposed to happen. His failing arm spasmed again, jerking the rifle wide. The lattice tried to compensate, but his hit rate went from an expected hundred percent to under thirty. Wasted rounds lost to the trees and sky, and a horde of Seekers hungry for his blood still incoming.